Aberration
by OblivyChan
Summary: Naruto Uzumaki was once a wild care-free spirit now tamed by years of imprisonment within the local asylum. Now let out, the newly made Team 7 gets to experience a new Naruto. Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto nor its characters. Kind of an AU, OOC Naruto.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

He was pushed against the creaking wooden fence, a fist hoisting him in the air by his white-collar. The orange-clothed boy choked for a fresh breath of air, struggling underneath the man's grasp. The older ninja smirked, his cracked lips curling up to show small, yellow, dagger-like teeth. He had such distinct features; a pencil tip-shaped head, snake eyes, thin pale lips, and a large, muscular frame to match. He played the perfect role of a stereotypical biker or a gang member's henchman. However, the young daemon boy had ignored his hard features and ventured into the man's family owned shop, only to get yelled at.

"No animals allowed!" The man had shouted, and obviously the boy _had_ to retort in some way, so commenting about his ugliness seemed fair.

But the insult he had made was apparently not taken lightly at all. The boy felt his mind suddenly sway, and the man abruptly let go, only to kick him. The young daemon cried out in pain, clutching his stomach as he curled into himself, his hot forehead touching the cold, sandy ground. The cold wind blew lightly on his neck, and he shivered. The man was still there, his fat fists clenched tight. He punched the boy's exposed back, the younger male gritting his teeth together, trying his hardest not to give the older male the satisfaction of hearing his cries.

A burning sensation crawled down his spine and spread throughout his body like a wildfire. Darkness swept over as the man kept beating him. Warm blood dripped down his sides. His skin was breaking and becoming so agonizingly sore. The small male didn't know what to do. His tan hands gripped tightly to his blonde head. What could he do? He wasn't a Genin yet, and he didn't even know the Shadow Clone Jutsu for crying out loud! He wouldn't be able to defeat a Jounin. Or could he? Maybe if he believed in himself-he tried to get up, but his nerves were completely unresponsive. What? He tried to move his limbs again. Nothing. Could he be...?

The man laughed at him now, pulling him back up by the collar while he beat his body like a punching bag. The young daemon opened up his sapphire eyes and begged silently for any passersby to help him. A man in all ninja clothing, a Jounin perhaps, with distinct pale, lavender eyes that could only signify Hyuuga lineage, and long dark brown hair walked right on by. He pulled a familiar young, pixie-haired girl by his side.

"Help me!" The boy cried out to them, "Please!"

The little girl looked back with concern, but her father pulled her forward, not even bothering to look at him. The man's assault suddenly became less painful. Over and over, villagers he knew passed by, ignoring him. The boy couldn't believe it. Betrayal fell heavy into his heart; cold weights settled upon his shoulders. And suddenly, he didn't care anymore.

So what if they passed by him? They didn't care about what happened to him. He was a nuisance to them and should die for being such. Exterminate the evil of this world, they say, so the boy must have been one of those "evils", right? Hysteria took over and he laughed; his voice was dry and cracked. Tears slipped down round cheeks, claws dug into the ground. Something within him had just snapped.

And then, he blacked out.

The young daemon didn't understand what was going on when he came to. The sharp smell of iron and rust filled his sense of smell while the sight of crimson washed the world around him. Looking around, he realized that he was still in the alleyway with the man from before. The older male's body was ripped in half, pink guts ripped from his body and strewn all over the small path. Crimson stained the once yellow-orange ground. The boy scooted back, feeling sick, his arms clutching onto his sides.

He bent over his knees and threw up all the contents in his stomach. The first person to find him was Iruka, who had pulled him into the infirmary immediately and called over other ninjas to block off the area.

And then they discovered a little secret about Naruto; he had cut words into his arms. Naruto, the cheery, happy, go-lucky kid, secretly hated himself and couldn't take the pain any longer. Huh. It just seemed so out of character for him. The first course of action was taking him to the asylum.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

He abided to being shoved into the wall, bloody and battered, bruises covering gaunt, ghoulish white skin. His wide blue eyes darted around, searching for help, but who would help the beast? Who would help the monster who destroyed lives? He shook his head; feeling strong metal cuffs bound around his wrists, a metal choker held his neck as the big men in matching polyester white scrubs bound him in a hefty straight jacket. The boy growled as he listened to their conversation. They laughed about how bad he had failed, gossiped on how the warden was going to make him pay for his attempted escape.

He was stuck in this asylum full of the criminally and mentally insane. As soon as the big brutes left the all-white room, panic built within the boy. He could hear the distant voices of his fellow cell mates. Their conversations picked up with excitement as rumors spread of his failed attempt at escaping, of the daemon that inhabited his gut, and so on. He bit his lower lip as the cold fell heavy on his thin shoulders. It pulled him closer to the edges of his insanity; he could feel that he was slowly losing himself in darkness. These 'safe' white padded walls swirled before him, creating a slow gyre of white. The sight itself alarmed him. Every time he was in here for too long, he would start to see these freaky things. He hadn't been in here too long now, had he? He shook his head; it couldn't have been a long time, could it? Is there truly a sense of time when trapped behind these white walls? He heard the back of his mind answer with a "No"; time does not exist here in this cage of white. In this oblivion, there was nothing but him and the daemon within.

He shook his head, his eyes focused on the door. His body tensed at the thought of that woman walking through. The tall, strong woman who had such a firm grasp on this place, the woman with short, almost purple-brown hair and onyx eyes with Orochimaru's curse mark (he wasn't sure who this Orochimaru had been until told by another patient)on her neck. She had once been one of the patients, the curse mark burning her as insanity had been thrust upon her body. But now, she was the boss of this insane jail. She shoved large pills down patients' throats, and locked away the innocent; people were thrown into large, cold caves, fists and legs beating them until they couldn't scream or fight any longer. They were told that they were insane, that they were not well, that they have had no progress at all, and electro-shock therapy was soon to come. His body shook; he trembled at the memory of his body shaking under the burning electricity, his insides jolting from the flashes of searing pain.

He shook off his own dreadful thoughts, and focused on the now opening door. He dreaded the sight of white scrubs, it's surely sadistic owner wearing them proudly. The owner of the clothes was a nurse here, a volunteer to the medical community. He had long, dark brown hair, his clear eyes a recessive trait to the Hyuuga line.

The daemon boy's lip curled into a snarl. The Hyuuga's eyes darted down to the boy, half in fear and half in fascination. He shoved a pale hand into his shirt pocket and fished out a small white bottle with unidentifiable characters scrawled on its side. The top was half-popped open for easy access. The nurse spilled a few of the small white pills into his hand, his other hand picking one up and putting it near the boy's lips.

"Take the pill," The Hyuuga ordered.

"No," The boy growled in response.

"Take the bloody pill!" The Hyuuga yelled, frowning as he shoved the pill to the boy's lips.

"No," The boy said through clenched teeth, his spine bending backward away from the nurse.

"Take it!"

"No!"

"Take it! Uzumaki, take it! Take it! Take the bloody pill, you'll be just fine!"

The daemon shook his head. Frustrated, the nurse grabbed the boy's chin and pulled his face forward.

"Take it! Take it! Take it!"

The boy finally let the pill pass his lips.

"Good, now swallow. Swallow! Come on, boy, just swallow the damn thing! Swallow!"

It was not going to happen.

"Swallow!"

He didn't want to let them win.

"Swallow!"

The boy felt the hand on his mouth move to his throat.

"Swallow!"

The daemon boy finally gulped the small pill dryly, feeling it slowly slide down his throat as it achingly burned his esophagus. The nurse smirked, leaving the boy as another came in. This nurse was large and muscular, his arms covered in scars. His face had a large scar running across it. He smiled, and cracked his large knuckles before slamming the door closed behind him. The boy looked away as he felt those familiar hateful eyes on his body, the eyes that daydreamed to rip him apart.

The large man approached him. One of his large tanned hands sprung out, gripping his wild and unkempt blonde hair. The daemon boy winced as his roots were slowly pried from his skull. The man laughed, pulling up a fist and slamming it into the boy's jaw. The impact caused the boy to fall to his side, his body pressing up against the cold, white cement wall. He growled, trying to command his body to obey, but it seemed the effect of the drug had come. A hazy feeling fell upon his fatigued limbs; his brain became mushy and his emotions were restrained. He felt...tamed; like a puppet doll without its master to move his strings.

The man grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up against the wall, his body hanging numbly in the air. The man threw him to the side, completely ignoring the fact that the chains on him would jerk him back. The chain pulled taut, cutting into the boy's skin and choking him. He fell limp; his consciousness muted and thoughts muddled, he came to know only pain. Within himself, he wondered if he was breaking, that as his body shattered so would his sanity. That's the reason they kept him, right? Because he was really sick, because he wasn't getting any better? The brute pulled him to his first resting spot in the middle of the padded room, kicked his back for good measure, and finally left. This lesson was short. Perhaps-no, he didn't want to think about it any longer.

Sleep wouldn't come so peacefully that night; his mind saw hallucinations of what they claimed to be daemons. They told him in their ghostly forms to kill himself, to rid his self of his pain and sorrows, to try to escape again and jump off a cliff-or even better! Hang by the chains tied around his body; a make shift noose cradled around his neck as his life drifted from dead, slack lips. He simply shook them off, rolled over to face the other way from the sight of such ugly images, and from thinking such ugly things. Seconds had passed by, the daemons coming and going as they pleased. They invaded his mind and his inner sanctum, their ghostly forms drifting above his body as they whispered into his ear deadly memories. They told him about the days his body laid beaten and thrown around, and the day everything started going to hell.

He was young, still fresh in the academy, pulling pranks left and right. He ran down a dusty road, his orange jumpsuit half zipped, tied around his waist to expose his dark green t-shirt underneath it. Little green goggles sat on his head as he pulled at them, grinning from ear to ear. His tiny blue sandals pounded against the path as he ran into the town, the roar of angry villagers yelling behind him. They screamed profanities and threats that one day, the fox boy's capture would come. Naruto merged with the villagers, suddenly becoming one of them once more. He walked, wearing a smug grin with high confidence at the thought of his smooth getaway. He wandered through the twilight-dusted town, feeling a familiar chill creep down his spine.

He looked around and noticed something was out of the ordinary, something that wasn't anticipated. Little red lanterns were beginning to light up the shops, most of the shops looking like they were closing up. The boy felt confusion sweep over him, not sure on why they were closing up so soon, or why they were getting out of the area as fast as they could. The boy shivered, now a little less certain of his venture through the small village hidden in the leaves. As people passed him, the familiar scent of booze becoming stronger, the sun slowly drifted from the lazy blue skies and to dark depths. It was soon to come again with the promise of a new day. Now many drunks staggered around, making the small boy tense. His insides screamed for him to run; something was going to happen, something did not seem right.

Glares penetrated his skull, sinking deep into his brain as the boy walked even quicker. If anything, he could run-no! No, he can solve this, he told himself. He could be a true ninja, fighting if he had to. With sweet ignorance in mind, he walked with his chest raised and head floating among the heavens.

He did not see the people who were creeping up behind him, did not notice the drunkards surrounding him. He was busy dreaming about the day he would become Hokage.

A large, buff male grabbed his throat and held him up. The small boy clawed and screamed for him to let go. The brute laughed, alcohol burning the child's throat as his body slammed against the dirt. His body burned on impact from the sharp pain. The others advanced on him-a group of at least five or six drunken males-with weapons held in their hands. The boy screamed as loud as he could when glass penetrated his arm. It slid upward, and with it rushed fire through his veins.

His arms were held behind his back by strong limbs, the attackers' bodies barely visible to him. The others threw punches and kicks into his spine. A fist came out and collided with the boy's face, earning a yelp from him. A kick to the stomach left him feeling nauseous. His screams pierced through the still night. He tried to get help, tried to get the attention of someone of the law. No one would stop, not a civilian, not a ninja, no one.

When the drunkards finished him, they left him face down in the street, the yellowish dirt stained with his blood. His stomach had been cut open, a knife still stuck in it, bruises littering his body. His hair red with his own blood, he looked unrecognizable. The boy lay unconscious in the alleyway, until two of his classmates found him. His classmates were none other than the Hyuuga heir, Hinata, and the boy of the Inazuka Clan, Kiba; he had smelt the horrible odor and found his classmate close to dead. He fetched help; Kiba had grabbed their sensei and the two recruited some medical ninja to help the boy in the alleyway while Hinata watched over Naruto's body. He owed Kiba and Hinata his life, so the dog boy had become a friend, though rival might have been the better term. Hinata, although, never really grew close to him. Either way, Naruto had a good relationship with them, granted it was small. They also thought Naruto had gotten better.

The fact was, while alone and suffering from the negative responses toward him with the occasional death threat, he grew weaker and gave in to self-harm. It was his outlet, and no one knew. That is until almost a year later when another attack occurred, him beaten to near death by an angry adult. His rage expressed through series of bruises and broken bones that hadn't exactly healed right with his spine slightly more bent than what should have been considered normal. When the doctors were treating him, they found certain words carved in his skin, particularly ones that said "monster" and "killer". Upon further examination, they found that these were self-inflicted; the boy was hurting himself. It was shocking; the staff were baffled at the thought that such a happy child would hurt himself so badly. His sensei wouldn't even accept it as the truth. His mind wasn't able to comprehend that the boy had in fact put a blade to his skin. Under the Hokage's orders, the boy was sent to the asylum, where he still resided today.

Finally, the boy found that his eyes were closed. Even his mind was tired of all the abuse. Slowly, he drifted to sleep, not even moving when a sharp sting slapped his shoulder, or when he heard his name screamed at the top of someone's lungs. He didn't want to stay awake anymore. A sharp blow to his side caused him to defy himself as he rolled over. His arms were free and clutched the ground, fingers digging into the soft padding as his lips curled up in a snarl. He looked at the intruder, almost smiling. It was Anko-the ruler of this asylum, the dark purple haired woman that wore her ninja clothing proudly and had an almost nauseating, egotistical attitude to match-and next to her a white-haired man with only one-fourth of his face visible.

"Uzumaki! Get up, we have to talk," Anko grinned, her eyes looking bloodthirsty.

"Is it about the pills? I'm not taking them anymore!" He growled, his hand clutching to the wall for support.

She waved her hand at him nonchalantly, her voice mock innocent as she replied, "No, but I did hear that you gave the nice men a struggle when taking them."

"I hate them! They make me see those things."

Anko rolled her eyes, her head turning to the white-haired man. His eyes had grown slightly wide as she whispered to him. She threw on a wicked grin.

"Come on, boy, line formation!" She ordered.

He stepped, one foot in front of the other, feeling a sort of limp in his step as he stood in front of her. His body tensed up at the thought that she would hurt him. She put a hand on his tense shoulder, her smile growing as he winced. Pain flooded down his back like water down a windowpane. The boy followed her out. Lazily slumped with his hands in his pockets, the white haired man followed behind him. His relaxed form put the younger boy on edge. They reached the front where two familiar people were waiting, their eyes widening at the sight of him.

One was a girl dressed in all red with pink hair, her eyes an emerald color. Her skin was beautiful, not a freckle or pimple in sight, just ivory. Though it wasn't as pale as the boy clad in blue that stood next to her. Onyx eyes and raven black hair gave the whiter boy a sort of menacing look, his hands shoved in his white cargo pants. The raven boy's posture looked on edge. The daemon wanted to back up. He didn't want to be anywhere near these two: the angsty prince, Sasuke Uchiha, and the annoying princess, Sakura Haruno. He frowned when Anko pushed his back, pain jolting down his shoulder blades. He winced, quickly stepped forward near the two, and immediately looked down at the blindingly white floor.

"H-hey Naruto," Sakura said timidly, trying her best to break the ice. His head snapped up and he eyed her suspiciously, before he cast his gaze down to the floor again.

"Hey..." He responded dryly, as he tried to remember how to act around classmates.

"Let's go; we have to get acquainted with you, Mr. Uzumaki," the white-haired man said, giving his shoulders a slight push. He immediately winced, and quickly pulled out of reach from the man. The boy turned around to glare at him before marching to the sliding doors.

The sun was hot. He hadn't seen it in years. His eyes ached as he shielded them from the light. He tried to hold in a snarl of distaste that clawed at his throat as the heat burned his skin. He took a few steps back, but gentle hands pushed him forward.

"No, you're leaving here," The man said to him softly.

The boy almost dragged his feet as he pushed through the black-soiled ground of the asylum, going around to the outside of the gate.

"Seriously Naruto, it's like you've never been outside," Sakura sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I-I never did," Naruto muttered, his lips growing into a tight, thin line as he touched the cold bars of the silver gate. His blue eyes lingered over the large building that had kept him captive for many years-with the allowance of a few escapes.

"They didn't want me out, so they kept me locked away in that padded room. The only time I would get to see the sun is when I would run away. And even then it took them only a few minutes to find me and put me back." He turned his head to the side and noticed the sympathetic eyes on him.

"What's with the long faces?" Naruto asked curiously.

"This is your new life now, and you'll see the sun more often," The older man said in a disturbingly soft, calm voice.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N

Thank you all for the good reviews! And thanks for holding out with all the editing going on, but I was itching to get a beta and I got one and she's amazingXD Unfortunately I will not be writing that often because I got AP summer homework and summer school (sounds like a contradiction) as well as cosplay costumes to make. So it'll take a while for chapter four to be up, other than that the chapter is coming around pretty smoothly. And thank you all, again, you people are amazing (My grammar is in the goods XD).

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. And if I did there wouldn't be too many fillers.

* * *

Chapter Three

The young daemon's eyes remained on the oak wood floor while the white-haired man spoke to the familiar old man clad in a white robe and hat. Anko was by his side, a smirk lightly touching her lips, barely noticeable. Tensing up, the boy could barely focus on the conversation the two respectable adults and old man were holding. The eyes of this evil woman still laid on him, any wrong move could place him back in her care. He must not do anything to upset anyone that would put him back. The white-haired male placed a hand on his shoulder, his mind suddenly pulled out from his inner rant. He searched the one-fourth of the face that the man showed, his lazy onyx eyes still focused on the old man. The boy held back the urge to flinch, as well as the urge to run.

"So Uzumaki, Naruto," The Hokage-who dressed in a large cotton white robe that hid his frame-picked up a piece of paper and examined it. "You'll be refreshed on the basics of chakra and take the test that your fellow classmates already took. I'm sure you're ready since Anko has given you private lessons."

The daemon boy hid his anxiety. Lessons? What lessons did she give him? When she beat him to near death? Is that a fucking lesson?! He held his anger in, gritted his teeth, and nodded his head. The Hokage smiled, his old eyes softening.

"Good, then it's decided. Kakashi, I trust you will refresh Naruto boy here of some basic chakra techniques. Test him on the Shadow Clone Jutsu, will you?" The old man asked, a sort of lazy smile falling on his lips.

The young daemon wondered to his self whether the man was going to ask him how the Asylum was, how badly he had been beaten every day, or even about the 'treatment' there. Perhaps he wasn't even aware of what went on inside there.

"Yes, we'll do it immediately," The white-haired man, Kakashi, said.

The man bowed, the boy following his motion, and left, with the daemon on his heels. After a long while of walking through the round building in complete silence, Kakashi let out a large sigh.

"I'm rather curious on why you don't like your warden," He said in such a blunt way, the boy nearly falling over his own feet.

"Anko?" A lightning storm of anger fell inside his body. "She's..." _Abusive! She used to beat me! She's hurting the others, help us! Help them!_ "Just a stupid-head."

Stupid head? What the hell in all that is ramen did he mean? He wasn't sure why he just protected her, why every fiber in his body still obeyed to her rule. _Don't tell, don't tell,_ she would whisper in his ear every night when he first moved in the Asylum. Anko held the influence of a demon, whispered thoughts into her patients' ears, tried her best to break them in nearly every way possible. _Never leave, stay with-_ Kakashi laughed, relief washing over him.

"Really now? Anko stupid? I guess she isn't the brightest, but I'm sure she's doing her best to care of her patients," Kakashi shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back a little, relaxed.

_She's completely bonkers! Why would anyone let a psycho with a sadistic streak rule the local asylum?_

"Yeah, I guess," The boy whispered.

Anko's doing her best to shut them up maybe. The unforgiving sun gave the boy a sort of headache; he felt obligated to tell the bright star to F-off, but kept his mouth shut. He did not need to go back to the asylum because he started to talk to un-animated objects. No, that would just be too ridiculous.

His fingers clawed the ends of his tattered white polyester shirt; he felt out of place in comparison to the other villagers. He still wore his asylum clothes while everyone else had colorful and easy-going clothes made for flexibility and the greatest comfort. He envied them a little, wishing he could be any one of them; even the villagers who looked a little plain wore more interesting clothes than he did.

There were so many people in the village, something that he never did realize. People with homes, people with families, people who smiled and laughed every day and without having to think about the constant threat of punishments. They lived day-to-day life in complete harmony and peace. They could do whatever they pleased because they had freedom. He laughed inside his head; freedom doesn't exist. Freedom was merely an illusion, each holding a different type of prison. In the asylum he was a prison of everything; he held no power nor could have the power of ownership. At least in this new prison-one of the ninja-he could at least sleep in his own bed without someone forced to strap him to his bed. Either way, a prison is a prison, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Do you want to check out your apartment and get things settled before I begin teaching you?"

Kakashi stopped before another intersection of people, his body half turned to him. The boy nodded his head vigorously. A nearly visible smirk showed through Kakashi's mask as he led the boy down the lesser traveled road. People glared at the boy. A couple of girls dressed in the brightest clothes and jewelry turned to one another, eyes locked on him, and whispered to each other. No doubt, it was about him.

The village had very sharp building shapes. Most built like tenant buildings with sharp corners in a box shape while others were more rounded, like the Hokage's mansion. Most of the buildings had lost their color; washed away from a few years of misuse. Laundry hung from thin black lines all over the town, colorful towels decorating the small alleys between each apartment. Farther away from the main streets, there were fewer people and older homes. Old apartments with rust building on their pipes and peeling paint met him; he could smell the familiar scent of iron and wet asphalt. He came to find his home, an old apartment building with stone colored walls and old pipes, the paint long gone from its walls. His home sat on the top floor, the window cracked as if someone had tried to break in, but to no avail.

Kakashi let him go, and he was home. Kakashi bid his good byes as the boy went inside, and made the boy promise he would swing around the training grounds. Then the older ninja left the daemon to his peace of mind. He remembered living here, how the scent of fresh wool and laundry filled his home, his tiny bed, and the tiny kitchen. Strange, years ago it had all seemed so much bigger. His finger gingerly brushed over the white fridge, prying the door open with little force. He wasn't surprised that everything was cleaned out. The only foods left for him were a few dried strips of fruit placed on a paper plate. Why would they put dried fruit in the fridge?

There were bottles with rounded edges containing water and milk below the fruit. Yummy. He got curious about why they basically baby proofed his entire house, but then allowed him to have breakable plastic bottles, and on top of that let him be a ninja. Hm, they were not as smart as they looked. He sighed, taking a water bottle and a slice of dried apple. Afterwards, he headed back to his closet to pull out some clothes. He pulled out many small articles of clothing, finally finding a large black t-shirt and an overbearing orange tracksuit that could fit him. He didn't bother to check himself out in the mirror before he left; he knew he looked rough. He left his orange jacket open, hoping that he wouldn't get too hot while training.

A wave of paranoia washed over the daemon boy. Why did they leave him to himself? Could they be watching him from some disclosed place? Did they want to let him go because they're doing a psychological experiment on how a patient would react in the world? He shook his head and hurried through the village. He wanted to be free of the crowds as quickly as possible. The people made him claustrophobic. They closed around every side of him, like the hands that grabbed his limbs and chained him to the wall. The flash of that memory made him jerk as he stopped moving completely in the middle of the crowd. People thankfully ignored his presence and moved around him while his head dropped and his heart rate increased rapidly. A hand snaked out from the crowd and landed on his shoulder. He felt his heart cease its beating, if only for a moment. He pivoted around, grabbed the hand and forced it shoulder blade down, holding it in a way that if he had to, he could pop the attacker's arm out of its socket in one swift jerk.

"Woah, woah! Calm down, Naruto! It me, Kiba!" The boy in the grey hoodie said.

Naruto let him go, backing up slightly. Distance is good. Distance is safe. The boy took a good look at Kiba, noting the large grey hoodie with fluffy edges that framed his face with a white shirt underneath, grey baggy pants and ninja shoes completing the sort of I've-done-drugs-and-I-know-where-to-buy-some look.

"Kiba...?" The boy nodded in response. Right, Kiba. The only thing closest to a friend that he had. A little bark exploded from the hood, along with a small ball of fur, a head popping from the hood. A dog. Sitting on Kibas head. The young daemon clenched and unclenched his hand.

"He's happy to see you," Kiba laughed, his hands on his hips. He seemed so proud.

"This is Akumaru, he was born a year ago. He's my personal teammate." He pointed a thumb at himself and he wore a toothy grin. A sudden urge to punch the pride out of the boy filled the daemon boy, at which he quickly squashed. Years of being behind bars with a bunch of crazies taught him a little something about what happened to prideful people.

"Cool. Wish I had a teammate," The boy tried to mirror the other's snarky smirk.

"You're going on that team with the Uchiha boy and the Haruno girl, right?"

"Yeah, after some training, and that is if I pass the Shadow Clone test." The daemon crossed his arms over his waist, lowering his gaze to the ground.

"Hey, so everyone's been bugging lately. What's the, you know? What's it like?" The boy looked up and hugged himself tighter.

"It's like..." Choking to death, dying slowly, being forced to carry a stone on your back for at least seven years, not being able to tell what day or month was, or even whether it was night or day because the drugs are so strong. "Jail." Again! He yelled at himself internally. Protecting hell? Why?! Why?

"Oh, well after all that training and testing stuff, do you want to go get some Ramen later?" The dog boy tilted his head, looking like a pup.

"Um, I don't know how late it will run," He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Doesn't matter."

"Yeah, but I really..." He shook his head. "I don't like..." People? Society? Being in public? "Being out too long. It messes with my internal clock."

"Right." Kiba shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded at the newly released patient. "Well, good luck at training, and hey! If you train hard enough, maybe you'll be just as good as me."

The boy smiled and shook his head before he headed back on his way. Too bad that he couldn't be as clean or healthy-minded as Kiba. Oh well. A daemon cursed with the inevitability of hell, and that is just what he had to endure. Slightly paranoid, he found himself in the training grounds, his head craned to look over his shoulder every few minutes or so. Fear at its finest. He sighed, finding the small field rather empty with an exception to a few large logs that stood up. A large tree line circled around the field, surrounding it with immediate thickness. He wondered what it would be like to just go and run off into the woods, never to be seen again. He would live off the comforts of nature; eventually he would find another village and live there instead. Then he wouldn't have to fear anymore, he wouldn't have to fight, and maybe people would respect him.

A warm hand gently seized his shoulder, the boy nearly doing a back flip in response. He took a fighting stance, his body facing his attacker. Oh, Kakashi. He relaxed himself as the older ninja's hands were held up, his eye closed.

"Didn't mean to startle you," He rubbed the back of his neck. "We should get started on the basics of chakra, I'm sure you know them."

The young daemon crossed his arms around his chest, shook his head, and gazed at the ground his Sensei stood on. The white-haired ninja almost let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed a small white notebook from his pack. He had prepared it if the boy needed a refresher on chakra. When the Hokage spoke about the boy's knowledge, he would've guessed that the boy would be some sort of great prodigy. But knowing the Hokage, the quick-witted ninja wasn't about to let such a judgment pass without taking an extra step. He handed the little note to the small boy, his small features scrunched together in distaste.

"I have to read it?" The boy frowned.

"Yep, then practice your chakra and try some basic hand signs. Afterwards, we'll get started on the Shadow Clone jutsu and get you up to speed on basic ninja training," Kakashi yawned, finding a place to relax, and sat under the shade of a tree. "Begin."

The young daemon sat down, reading the packet. He hadn't read actual books in so long, the characters took forever to decode themselves. He decided that he would rather look at the pictures and skim them, like when he had to build furniture for his home. He put his hand in the same place as the little person, concentrated on the movement within his body. A short burst of energy came, shivering up his spine, but slowly drifted away. He frowned, trying to stay on that same level of concentration, but it didn't seem to be working. Was he doing something wrong? Obviously.

He relaxed his body and focused on the energy within his self, paranoia rising in his chest. He became hyper-aware of everything, other nature things like plants or squirrels suddenly becoming the enemy. He fidgeted every time something skittered across the forest floor, or when crunchy leaves fell on the grass. A soft pat on the shoulder caused him a mini heart attack as he ran forward, feet drawn open in a battle pose. Nothing. He drew his arms up and focused on his surroundings, his eyes searching for any movements. Another touch sent shock waves up his spine, and he did something unexpected. His hands formed a shape as energy filled him, then poof! Another Naruto popped up beside him, except it was rather weird looking. Its half-pale half orange-colored skin nearly blended into the orange jacket, its blob-like face grew into a creepy smile. He didn't concentrate on the blob, instead on the attacker. No, it was only Kakashi.

"What do you want?" The daemon growled, his copy groaned.

"Just thought you needed a push," The sensei lazily smiled and leaned back on his heels.

"Don't do that!" His tone was sharp.

The lazy ninja raised his shoulders; he slowly let them fall, and proceeded to shove his hands into his pockets.

"It's alright; I think that's it for today. You need time to…improve. We'll pick up more on this tomorrow," The older ninja tilted his head, a slightly kind smile on his face. The daemon simply nodded, kicked the copy so it would disappear, and turned around to head back home.

"Hey," The boy stopped. "Some of your classmates are looking for you, shouldn't you go see them?"

The young daemon shook his head. "I'm just going to go home."

"They want to meet you at the old ramen shop."

That caught his attention. "Ichiraku's?" He turned around, nearly drooling at the thought of finally getting the most delicious ramen he ever put in his mouth.

"Yeah, better get there quick, don't want to disappoint them."

The boy shook his head; he didn't want to go to town. In town, he is vulnerable. In town, he could be hurt and sent back to the asylum.

"They don't care about me."

The white-haired ninja didn't move or give off any reaction. He seemed to not be surprised by the young daemon's decision.

"Tell them I won't be going." And with that, the boy walked away, completely exhausted. He wasted a lot of energy today. Back at the asylum, he wouldn't move around; sometimes not even moving for days at a time.

When he got home, he locked up his windows and his door, panic taking control. The young daemon sat in the far corner of his bed, pressing deep into the wood. His head racked with thoughts, anxiety burned his stomach. What could he do without those restraints that kept him from himself? What about his medication? Could he be free of those wretched hallucinations at last? He started to laugh hysterically. Curled into a tight ball, tears leaked a little from the corners of his eyes. Hands gripping the sides of his body, he trembled, feeling a wave of coldness wash over him. The cold soon turned to ice and settled within the pit of his stomach.

He used to receive drugs for this feeling, pills for chronic depression. He smirked at the memory of first taking the pills; he was so weak and fragile, his little body mangled and beaten. It didn't take any force to shove the pills into his mouth, nor did it take anything to pour water from a cardboard cup into his mouth and make him swallow. But then came the hallucinations. Their first appearance frightened him. They looked like distorted squirrel rag-doll things. Little skulls and beady black eyes stared at everything around them, dark crimson dripping from their twisted, naked bodies. He nearly gagged. Those things didn't do much, just appeared and circled around him, existing as if only to protect. But he knew better and kicked the dolls, and found out that they fought back. The things bit him, the pain hitting every sensitive part on his body. After this little incident, they started to force medication for Schizophrenia down his throat. The medication either worsened the hallucinations, or worsened his depression. It was always either or, no balance or happy ending.

A heavy sigh left his body. He moved to the other side of his bed and relaxed on the mattress. His eyes searched outside, the bright moon shining over the stilled town. Not one person was out, not one person made a sound. There were no cries or screams from patients; a noise that he had grown accustomed to at the asylum. And he didn't receive any beatings to "teach him how to respect his elders" or "to keep him quiet". He felt like crying, but decided against it. If he cried, he would look all puffy and pink in the morning, then they would start asking questions. And then they would ask him if he was okay, and patronize him until he told him about the heavy depression. Then he would be sent back to the asylum just in case; so that he wouldn't harm himself.

There were too many ways were he could be sent back to the asylum. He acted like he walked on eggshells to make sure he wouldn't be put back in that hell again. The boy got up from his bed, sauntered into the bathroom, and flicked on the light. Familiar fluorescent lights burned his eyes as he looked at himself in the mirror. He took off his orange jacket and his black shirt, eyes scrutinizing his body. He wouldn't be able to show anyone his body either, as too many scars zig-zagged over his pale skin. Tiny pink scars went horizontally from his ribs to his hips; it looked like he did it himself. More scars went vertically from his belly button to his chest, and what looked like claw marks scratched his collarbone to his shoulders. These marks were made around three years ago when he attempted to escape from the place. He turned around and grimaced as he saw the large whip marks lashed down his back. Each held painful memories. He shook his head; he couldn't let anyone know of any of this, lest he wish himself a death sentence. Anko would put him in the iron maiden if he ever told. He physically shivered and put his black shirt back on. No, no one can know. Not his friends, sensei, not even the Hokage. A heavy weight fell inside of him. He wondered much longer he had to live.


End file.
